Thoroughly Kissed (9 page)

“Better than I would have expected,” he said.

“Would it be against the rules to have Nora fly out here and drive back with me?” Emma asked.

“No,” Aethelstan said. “But she's in court for the next two months. It's a very big case, and she's the head counsel on it.”

“What about Amanda and Jeffrey?” Amanda was Nora's mother and Jeffrey was her husband. They had taken care of Emma after she found she couldn't tolerate Aethelstan. And Jeffrey, a history professor, had helped Emma understand the world she was in now, and had inspired her to share his profession.

“They're in the Caribbean. On a cruise. It's a second honeymoon and it just started. They're supposed to be gone until August.”

Emma sighed. She opened her mouth just as Aethelstan said, “And don't ask about Merlin. Even if he wanted to come, I suspect he'd be held under the same restrictions I was.”

Merlin was Aethelstan's best friend. He was another mage. His real name wasn't Merlin, of course. That was simply the name he'd had when Emma had met him, over a thousand years ago. He was the Merlin of yore, although he didn't like to admit it. Nora called him Sancho, and Emma had never heard Aethelstan use any name other than those two. Some day, maybe, Merlin would trust Emma enough to tell her his real name.

“Surely there's someone you trust enough to bring along,” Aethelstan said.

“Not among my mortal friends,” Emma said, “at least not here.”

“Well,” Aethelstan said, “what about that boss of yours?”

Emma winced. “What about him?”

“You said you already sent him to the past. He has to know something is going on.”

“Oh, he knows,” she said. Darnell sat up straighter at the mention of another man. “I told him.”

“Well, then,” Aethelstan said.

“He thinks I'm insane. Or that he is. And I don't think he likes me much.”

“Emma, you have to find someone.”

She nodded, knowing he couldn't see her and not really caring. “Maybe I'll put an ad in the
Isthmus
.”

“In the what?”

“The local weekly.”

“Emma—”

“Email the list of contacts, Aethelstan. I'll let you know when I leave, and keep you apprised of the journey.”

“Do that,” he said gently. “I'll be worrying about you.”

“Thanks,” she said and hung up.

She cradled the phone for a moment. He would worry. For all their differences, for all of their prickliness, he really cared about her. After all, he had guarded her for a thousand years. He still felt a little protective.

It was probably bothering him greatly that he couldn't come out here and take care of her.

Then she shuddered. Maybe it was good she would be on her own. And Aethelstan was right. Michael Found might be the perfect person to travel with her. He already didn't like her or trust her, and he had experienced the magic.

She certainly couldn't make their relationship any worse.

Darnell was watching her from the floor. The poor cat. He hated traveling—and had complained on the entire long drive out here from Oregon. Now he had to go back. If she trusted modern conveniences more, she'd put him on an airplane and have Nora pick him up on the other end.

But with her luck, Darnell would chew his way through the kitty carrier and bite every attendant within walking distance, forcing some draconian airline official to put him to death.

Then she frowned. She wasn't really sure if they could legally put Darnell to death. Law figured a lot more into daily life in this century than the one she was born in.

In any case, she'd have to bring Darnell with her. And that was almost as ugly as the idea of traveling with Michael Found.

Except that she found her heart leaping at the very thought of him and those spectacular blue eyes of his. And that marvelous blond hair. Those shoulders. And those lips.

She would have to stay away from those lips.

Even if she didn't want to.

***

The idea didn't seem quite as good the following morning. Especially as she walked up the stairs to his office. This time, she was wearing jeans and tennis shoes, and a heavy silk sweater. She didn't have a class, and she had put a note on her door canceling office hours.

So far, today nothing had happened. She had kept her thoughts under rigid control and she had forced Darnell to sleep in the basement, much to his dismay. That way, she hadn't been able to hear him yowling his displeasure and subconsciously wish him to some desert island or something, and she didn't have to worry about having one of her dreams attack him.

Darnell had come out of the basement looking so angry that she kept away from him. And the basement door would never be the same.

But so far she was accident-free and hoping to remain so. It would require her to get through this meeting with Michael Found. She would make it as short as possible.

Even if she didn't ask him to go with her to Oregon, she still had to see him. She needed an emergency leave of absence and he was the only one who could grant it for her.

Even though there were still two weeks left in the semester, her students would be all right. The last week of lectures was mostly overview, and then there was finals week, in which no classes were held at all. She would have her exams done and ready before she left. A graduate student could handle them and she could grade from Oregon.

The biggest problem she had was keeping the length of her training a secret. She didn't want Michael to know she might have to be gone for years.

Helen was not at her desk, and Emma felt vaguely relieved. If anything went wrong this morning, at least Helen wouldn't be an accidental victim.

The other office doors were closed as well. It seemed most of the history department administration didn't show up until 9:00 a.m. Fortunately, it was only 8:30.

Michael's door was open, as she knew it would be. He was sitting in the reading chair, his legs stretched out before him, and as she knocked he set aside his book.

Her book.

Her stomach lurched. She didn't like how this was starting.

When he saw her, he smiled and stood. “Emma,” he said, his voice warm.

She loved the flat vowels of his. After talking with Aethelstan yesterday, Michael's Wisconsin accent sounded reassuringly normal.

“Thanks for seeing me again after the—weirdness—yesterday.”

“I'm happy to. I'm just glad I got your email in time.”

She nodded. He extended a hand toward the empty chair in front of his desk. She walked to it, feeling more like a supplicant than a professor. Amazing how much had changed in twenty-four hours.

Michael sat behind his desk. He folded his hands in front of him and rested them on the blotter.

She sat, careful not to clutch her purse before her. Nora had always warned her that was a sign of nervousness, and Emma didn't want him to know how nervous she actually was.

“I hope the class went all right,” she said. “I'm sorry that I stuck you with it.”

“It went fine. You have some inquisitive minds in there.”

She smiled, but she knew it didn't reach her eyes.

“You didn't come to talk about the class, did you?”

She shook her head. This was going to be harder than she thought. She really didn't want to leave this place. It had become her home in a short ten months. And now everything was going to change.

Again.

“I'm afraid I need an emergency leave of absence,” she said.

“I expected as much.”

“I have to leave Madison,” she said. “The rest of the semester is pretty easy to take care of. I can write up my exams and the lectures—”

“I've already thought of that,” he said. “Your graduate assistant seems more than capable.”

Emma nodded. “I can grade by mail.”

“If you leave an answer sheet—”

“No,” she said. “There are a few students who don't test well and who know the material. It wouldn't be fair to them.”

He studied her for a moment. Her heart sank. She knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“You're not going to let a student who doesn't complete the requirements pass the course, are you?”

Of course she wasn't. She clasped her hands tight. She was bristling and trying to control it. Her right thumb actually dug into the knuckles of her left hand. She concentrated on the pain so no wayward thoughts would do any damage.

“It's just that there are a few students who would probably get a B on a standardized test, and after their work this semester, they deserve an A.”

“I looked over your course papers,” Michael said. “You have written quite explicitly that grades would be based twenty-five percent on the midterm and seventy-five percent on the final. You can't bend the rules just because you've changed your mind.”

“I've learned,” she said, “and my grades should reflect that.”

“Your grades,” he said, “should follow the guidelines that you set up. Rules give us structure.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “They also suffocate us.”

He let out a small sigh. “You know, you almost had me convinced that the strange things in your book came from your experiences. I see now that you're just not willing to follow the strictures of scholarship.”

“No,” she said, her thumb digging in so hard that she would probably bruise. “You are simply using rules as a way to close your mind.”

He paled ever so slightly. Had someone accused him of that before? She didn't know and she certainly was never going to find out. This would probably be her last interview with Michael Found. It was clear that he had made up his mind about her and nothing—not even the events of yesterday—would change that.

“You'll make out an answer sheet. Your graduate assistant will grade the exams and use them and the midterms to determine the final grades. That way, when you leave, you can concentrate on your own—problems.”

She bowed her head. Her arms were rigid and she was breathing harder than she wanted to. Reigning in her temper was proving to be the most difficult thing she had ever done.

“Don't worry about us here,” he said. “We'll take care of everything.”

She was sure he would. And, she was sure, the Fates would as well. If Emma got control of her magic and used it to convince Michael to give her the job back, the Fates would intervene because of improper usage. Not to mention that it would make her feel terrible.

Although she was still tempted to try it.

She made herself stand before her thoughts got completely out of control. “I'm planning to leave in the morning,” she said. “Unless you feel I need to stay longer.”

He shook his head. “I'll tell everyone that you had a personal emergency, which is true, isn't it?”

She nodded.

“Everything will be just fine here. When you leave tomorrow, you'll be able to concentrate on yourself.”

She suppressed a sigh. She didn't want to concentrate on herself. She had had to for the past ten years just so that she could adapt to this culture. She had finally achieved her goal, and now she was being forced to give it up.

Was her entire life going to be about losing everything she grew to care about?

“Thanks, Professor Found,” she said, and walked to the door.

“Michael,” he corrected. “Remember? We resolved that yesterday.”

She put her hand on the doorknob and turned to him. “I think it would probably be better for both of us if we forgot all about yesterday.” She made herself smile. “Thank you for letting me go.”

He opened his mouth and for a moment, she thought he was going to say,
My
pleasure.
Instead, he said, “Take care of yourself, Emma.”

The gentleness in the words touched her, even though she didn't want it to.

“I will,” she said. “I have no other choice.”

***

He tried to work his way through the day. He had budgets to oversee and course plans to examine, and a lot of catching up to do. But all he kept seeing was the look on Emma's beautiful face when she said that rules were suffocating. She looked like a woman who was drowning and had no idea how to come up for air.

Immediately after she left, he tried to tell himself that whatever was happening with her was none of his business. He graduated from that to contemplation of things he didn't understand, and then found himself daydreaming about her, wondering what she would look like naked.

That thought jarred him enough that he pushed his chair back, and stood. He had to clear his head. Emma Lost was a lovely, troubled woman who did not believe in the same things he did. Even if her tale of magic were true—and he was having more trouble with that than he wanted to admit—there was still the issue of her inability to follow even the simplest of guidelines.

Letting students skate by because they were articulate in class was just the tip of the iceberg. There was still her poorly documented book. There was not a category in any history book's bibliography for magical time travel. The “I saw it therefore it must be true” defense barely worked in journalism anymore let alone history of the Middle Ages.

He shook his head hard enough to strain his neck. He put his hand on the sore spot and grimaced. The Emma Lost problem was taken care of, at least for now. She was on leave for the rest of the semester. He would write a report about her during the break and when he came back, he would see the faculty review board. They would find a way to dismiss her quietly, to save everyone embarrassment, particularly Mort who had championed her.

Somehow that whole idea made him uncomfortable. But it was probably because it was getting close to noon and he hadn't had much breakfast. Although he didn't admit it to Emma, he had had to hurry to get to his office that morning. He'd gotten her email at eight, when he logged on shortly before his shower. It had taken all he could do to make it to the office and look comfortable before she arrived.